The Army Of Commerce Poem by Bill Grace

The girl at the door of Wendy’s
Nicely tells me at 0800
They do not open until 9
I am watching
The new Wal-Mart being built.

“5 State Helicopter”
Has joined the war
Moving huge concrete bath tubs
Half the size
Of a Normandy pill box
To the inside
Of prefabricated walls
Of the coming temple.

The men all in orange shirts
Form a fire team
Each must signal
That his chain is secure
Before the monster
Can take up the slack.

“5 State” is a powerful machine
Its rotor stirs
My black coffee into waves
Orchestrate a de ja vu.

That strange pulsing sound
Of egg beaters
More powerful than gravity
And I am on the ground again
Protected from the same sun
By a Wendy’s umbrella
Viet Nam remembered
But not experienced.